Home for christmas, p.4
Home for Christmas, page 4
Darcy nodded.
“Darcy darling, why don’t you walk Finn out and you two can set up a time to plan for the program rehearsals?”
Darcy’s cheeks flamed bright pink. “Aunt Lulu, I’m sure you can fill me in on the details I need.”
“Oh, but you’ll need to decide with Finn on the timing. He’s the pastor in charge of all special events at the church.”
“You’re a pastor?” Darcy’s pink blush went to stark white.
Finn sighed. “You don’t need to sound so shocked.”
“How’s the patient feeling today?” A nurse asked as she scrubbed her hands with disinfectant and walked into the room.
“Oh, just wonderful, Julie. My niece is here for a visit. She’s helping Pastor Finn with the Christmas program. My biggest worry now is who will make the chocolate mint brownies and decorate my blanks for the Christmas cookie sale on Saturday.”
“Well, if that’s your biggest worry, I think you are living a pretty good life, Miss Lulu.” Julie said. “If you’ll excuse us for just a minute, I need to check Miss Lulu over and I think she might appreciate the privacy.”
“I was on my way out.” Finn said. “Lulu, I’ll swing by to visit once you’re resting at home.”
“Thank you, my dear. Darcy darling, go ahead with Finn and pull together the schedule. The children’s parents need to know as soon as possible.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Finn walked into the hallway. The midmorning bustle of the hospital had nurses and orderlies shuffling from room to room. Doctors’ rounds were completed hours before most visitors thought about sliding out of bed or drinking their first cup of java. Except for rounds, the nurses were in charge. Leaning his shoulder against the smooth wall he waited for Darcy to meet him.
Her surprise over his profession of choice was not unique. Most people, including his parents, couldn’t understand why a single man in his early thirties would choose to pursue seminary and a career in ministry. He was used to the shock and disorientation, but somehow Darcy’s reaction to his choice stung. His feelings were silly. He’d known Darcy for less than twenty-four hours. Yet, he was drawn to her in an inexplicable manner. He couldn’t explain his desire to know Darcy Langston. But know her he would.
9
“A pastor?” Darcy grabbed Finn’s arm and forced him to follow her down the hall to the elevators. “You don’t think you could have mentioned that last night?”
He pressed the down arrow button. “Didn’t seem important.”
“Not important. You’re a man of God.”
“And you’re a woman of God. What’s your point?”
“But…” She sighed and leaned against the elevator door.
“But what, Darcy?”
How was she supposed to say she had been lusting after a man who had committed his life to God? There was probably a special holding cell in purgatory for the women who lusted after the clergy.
Mr. Hotty Stray indeed!
She blamed him entirely. No one should be as well put together as him and be a pastor. Men who looked like Finn should be aftershave models, quarterbacks, or photojournalists. Cheekbones and a perfect five o’clock shadow should not be wasted behind the pulpit.
“Darcy?” The question in his tone drew her from her mental rant. Lifting her focus to his gaze, filled with questions, she couldn’t stop the shiver zipping down her spine generated by a simple glance.
He was more than a hotty. He was a beautiful masterpiece. A beautiful masterpiece with a terrible sense of style. Yesterday’s comic book T-shirt and old jeans was a step up from today’s nearly worn through button down and paint splattered khakis. Did protestant pastors take a vow of poverty like monks? Had she missed something in catechism?
Shaking her head, she lifted the corner of her mouth. “It’s nothing. I just realized with your position I should probably keep some of my wandering thoughts in check.”
“Really?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.
Heat burned up the side of her neck, spreading like a forest fire across her cheeks and nose. “Well, it’s just…”
“Yes?”
Pivoting, she slammed the heel of her hand against the down arrow button of the elevator control panel. “Where’s the elevator?” As if her words were magic, the doors slid open with a ding and she nearly hopped into the welcoming wooden warmth. She pressed the lobby button.
He leisurely stepped over the metal threshold, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the faux wood paneled wall.
With a sigh, she shifted her gaze up to his. “I’m sorry. Can we put my manic behavior down to the stress of my aunt being in the hospital, and simply focus on somehow pulling off a Christmas program worthy of Aunt Lulu, the church, and the town?”
A small crease formed between his eyes, drawing his thick eyebrows towards each other. Darcy’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Please let it drop. Her embarrassment quotient had been met ten times over in the last twenty-four hours. Having to address her instant attraction to Finn like a true adult might cause her to transform into a mute. Or worse her mouth would catch verbal toxicity and every impure thought she had in the last twenty-four hours would be spewed all over the good pastor like a four-year-old’s cotton candy after a ride on the tea cups at the fair.
The elevator chimed and announced their arrival at the lobby. The doors creaked open and Finn rested his wide palm against the metal door motioning for Darcy to exit before him. Following his nod, she quickly moved toward a set of chairs in the corner of the room.
Wrapping her arms across her middle, she sucked in a deep breath to avoid plopping onto the barrel chair angled toward the seat where Finn was lowering his long body.
“Let’s say I agree to table the unspoken until a later date, will you promise to share what you were thinking when I ask you?”
Relief poured through her entire frame. “Of course. Thank you.”
He nodded. Reaching into the front pocket of his khakis he pulled out his phone. “Well then, we have rehearsals to schedule and a program for you to look over.” A broad grin stretched his lips wide.
She matched his smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
He glanced down to scroll through his calendar and Darcy was able to enjoy one last lingering gaze. With a sigh, she reached into her back pocket for her phone. The time had come for Darcy darling’s work to begin.
10
Finn was amazed at Darcy’s rapid transformation from embarrassed and awkward to woman in charge. Her cheeks were no longer floating between two shades from the warm side of the crayon box. In charge Darcy was rapidly firing off dates and times for rehearsals, while reviewing the script online and making verbal corrections to no one in particular. If she was this forceful with a church Christmas play, what was she like in the lab?
“We’re agreed? Three practices this week and maybe four next week including the dress rehearsal?”
He nodded.
“Good. Good. I’d like to see a complete run through today if it is possible. Tomorrow, at the absolute latest. Aunt Lulu is expected home no later than the eleventh, and I want to have a handle on the production before she needs to get settled.”
“Sounds good. We had planned on practicing tonight until Lulu fell. I’ll send out a group text to the parents and other participants so they know practice is a go.”
“I forgot to ask, how many practices have you had so far?”
“Oh, tonight will be our first.”
“What shape are the sets in?” She lifted her gaze to his. Her brown eyed focus was a worthy surrogate for Lulu’s interrogator stare.
“Well,” he said with a cough. “We’ve had some trouble finding volunteers to help us with the backdrop.”
“Hmm…missing a backdrop isn’t the worst. What about the manger and the inn?”
“Yeah, well, those are a little lacking as well.”
“And by lacking you mean…”
“Non-existent.”
She closed her eyes, scrubbing her face with both hands. “No sets. At all. An unrehearsed cast—filled with children and volunteer adults. The visionary director ends up in the hospital” Opening her eyes, her mouth set into a straight line. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Sucking in the corner of his mouth, he shook his head. “Sounds perfect.”
“Perfect? Are you insane?”
“Yep.”
“Explain, please?”
He lifted his hand and counted on each finger. “No sets. Untrained cast. New director. Seems like three pretty good places for God to create a miracle.”
Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head on the spin. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Naw, that’s the best part of being a pastor.”
“What’s that?”
“Waiting for the miracle.”
11
Ben shoved a string of cobwebs off his shoulder as he scooted on his knees into the crawl space under the stairs. Aunt Lulu’s house was built at the turn of the nineteenth century and despite most rooms needing two fireplaces to heat, every inch of space was used with the greatest care, even the typically wasted space under the stair case. However, this particular space was designed for a small child not a man of nearly six feet four inches.
Why in the world would she “hide” recipes under the stairs? Better yet, why would she ask him to fill in for her at the Ladies Aide Society’s annual Christmas sale? Baking was not in his skill set. But, his lack of culinary ability held little argument. Guilt was a magical gift both his sister and Aunt Lulu seemed to know exactly how to wield with skill and targeted efficiency. Two hours after visiting his aunt he was still searching the cupboard under the stairs for the “secret” family recipes.
The closet was blanketed in enough dust to hide a national treasure. Each wall of the minuscule room was lined with discarded books and boxes of various shapes, haphazardly stacked and stuffed on every available surface. Resting on his left forearm, he began tugging at the tins hoping he would find the elusive recipes before the cramp threatening in his hip locked him into the cupboard unable to move.
Bong!
Bennett sat straight, hitting the back of his head at the vibrating sound of the ancient gong his great uncle connected for the house’s doorbell. He sucked in the colorful word threatening to spill through his lips as he wriggled out of the closet.
Bong!
“Coming.” He hollered. Brushing grime and cobwebs from his body, he wiped his hands against his worn cargo pants.
The nearly one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old door creaked on its hinges as he yanked on the handle, letting in a blast of frigid December air and a swirl of flurries from the early afternoon snow squall. Despite the artic chill, the sight in front of him warmed Ben from the core of his heart to the tips of his fingers. Standing on the wide, wraparound front porch was an oversized down coat dwarfing the petite frame of Harper Jessup.
Capped with a dark gray knit toboggan, her blonde curls peeped out from the edges framing her face. A broad smile stretched her lips. “Well, will you leave me standing out in the blizzard or can you offer a girl a hot chocolate?”
“Uhh, sorry.” Holding the door wide, he motioned for her to enter the two-story foyer with its six-feet-wide crystal chandelier humming against the ornate ceiling.
“Woo-wee, this house never gets old.” Slipping out of her all-weather boots crusted with snow, she handed her coat and cap to Bennett. “This house inspired me to be an interior designer.”
“Really?”
With her hand gently resting on the curved railing, hugging the staircase, a twinkle lit her eyes. “Mmmhmm. I used to water Mrs. Penhearst’s plants when she was away on vacation. I even stayed here for two weeks when they went to Spain, and I dog-sat Bongo. I think I’ve sketched this front entry two dozen times in my life. Updating and changing everything while changing nothing at all.”
“You watched Bongo? That beagle was crazy.”
“He was quirky not crazy. He would howl at his own shadow, but he was sweet. I liked to read on the back patio and get a little sun. He would nudge my hand every few minutes for an ear nuzzle. I still miss him when I come over to visit.”
“When I visited, he thought we were in the same pack. He always felt the need to challenge me. One time he attacked me in the middle of the night and stole my top sheet.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I found it twisted and torn apart in the back of his dog house.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, well, I can honestly say he wasn’t my biggest fan and I wasn’t his.”
“Oh, and here I thought I would like you.”
Bennett’s throat went dry. He felt his neck burn with the heat of a thousand suns.
“I’m just kidding.” She laughed.
“That’s a relief. Because I definitely like you.”
Harper’s cheeks deepened to a shade north of candy apple red. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she wrapped her arms around her middle.
“I mean you’re great. What’s not to like?” Glancing down the hall, Ben wanted to run back to the cabinet under the stairs and hide until the New Year.
“I think you’re pretty great, too,” she said in a voice barely registering above the humming lights.
Ben thought he heard the falling snow against the lead glass windows. The thick arms of the grandfather clock, in the sitting room, signaled the passing of each elongated second.
“Well, this is awkward,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his.
He cleared his throat. “That’s an understatement.”
“Why don’t you ask me what brought me out in this terrible storm?”
“Well, Miss Harper, what brought you out in this terrible storm?”
“Why Mr. Bennett, I have been charged with rescuing you.”
“Rescuing me?”
“Why, yes, sir. I was told you’ve been tapped to fill in for Miss Lulu at the Christmas Cookie Sale Saturday.”
“Fill in? Is that what she is calling it?”
She nodded. “Apparently, there are five dozen blank cookies that need decorated. And, a few batches of mint chocolate brownies and swoon pies need to be whipped up for the sale.”
“Aunt Lulu said she was sending me a helper. I had no idea you were my helper. Don’t you need to get back to Columbus?” He distinctly remembered she didn’t live in Gibson’s Run and the inexplicable disappointment he felt with the news. “Why are you still here?”
“I came to town this morning to set up the extra lights Mayor Donaldson wanted before the start of the Christmas festival Friday. The snow was expected to be light flurries. I was supposed to be in and out in under an hour. Apparently, the weather didn’t listen to the weather man. This storm is not allowing any travel but by foot. The county is under a Level three snow emergency. And unless I want to walk forty-five miles in the snow, I’m bound to this town for at least the next twenty-four hours. Mrs. Penhearst called Mom to see if she could help with the cookies. But because I’m still in town, Mom volunteered me.”
“Level three? That sounds bad.”
“It’s definitely not a storm you want to mess with. Level three means unless you’re driving an emergency vehicle you aren’t allowed to be out and about.”
“That’s terrible. Darcy is with that friend of Aunt Lulu’s. Finn something or other. She’s supposed to help him with the Christmas pageant. I don’t even know where they went. How will she get back here?”
“You mean, Pastor Finn? She’ll be fine. He’ll make sure she gets home in one piece.”
“He’s a pastor?”
Harper chuckled and padded in socked feet to the kitchen. “A lot of people have that reaction when they meet him. He’s pretty new to his calling. He used to be a sports attorney.”
“You know a lot about him?” Ben tried to shove the irrational twist of jealousy forming in his gut.
She shrugged. “His cousin is marrying my brother.”
“That’s nice.”
“They are so gaga over each other they fixed Finn and me up when he first moved here.”
Ben nearly tripped entering the kitchen. His stomach twisted at her words. Harper had a boyfriend?
He watched her open and close cabinets, tucking ingredients in the curve of her arm. She stacked a variety of boxes, bottles, and tins along the center of the wide marble top island in the middle of the kitchen.
“How do you know what ingredients we need? I couldn’t find the recipe box.”
“I know how to make swoon pies. They’re my favorite and Mrs. Penhearst taught me how to make them for my fourteenth birthday. And then she swore me to secrecy.”
“Seriously?”
She stopped moving and narrowed her focus on him. “I pinky swore. Nothing is more serious.”
He nodded. What words did one give to counter a pinky swear?
“But we’ll need the recipe for the chocolate mint brownies.” She pivoted toward the hallway and the cupboard under the stairwell. “I think I remember seeing her recipe tin when I was helping her organize some books for the library’s annual sale.”
Harper’s petite stature allowed her to nearly stand at full height in the room. Bangs and thuds echoed out of the tiny chamber. Not willing to run the risk of getting stuck in the room, Bennett leaned against the door. “Did you find it?”
“Despite the dust, I think she moved things around after last spring.”
“She said it was wrapped in a scarf under a hat.”
“Makes sense.” Harper’s voice was muffled in the closet. “Wouldn’t want to risk the cleaning lady stealing her prized possessions.”
A few minutes passed, tinged with the sound of books scraping against shelves and pottery clinking against other dining ware.
“Yes!” Harper scooted out of the room in reverse.
Bennett couldn’t help but stare as she wiggled through the small opening. Standing tall, she nearly brushed her frame with his. Her scent filled his senses. The aroma of vanilla mixed with winter spices lingered around her.
